


a rush and a push

by callunavulgari



Series: Crossover Drabble Meme Collection [8]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” he starts, licking his lips when his voice comes out crackly. “What do you need me to do?” She narrows her eyes at him and for half a second, he thinks that this is it, he’s about to get murdered in his own kitchen by an ill-advised one-night-stand that he thought he’d heard the last of months ago. But she doesn’t lunge for the nearest steak knife or verbally eviscerate him. Instead, she softens a fraction, breaking eye contact with him in favor of examining her immaculate french manicure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a rush and a push

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a gigantic collection of crossover drabbles. I made a list of twelve characters and have been writing the results of the prompts and pairing match ups. This one is for Twelve/Eight (Roxas/Lydia) - Pregnancy.

Roxas has a feeling that the girl—the same girl that he has vague memories of going down on two months ago at one of his buddies keggers, Lydia, maybe?—doesn’t make a habit of making stupid decisions. But she’s standing on his front stoop, dressed to the nines, shoulders back and a determined look on her perfect face. She doesn’t so much ask to be let in as she demands it, pushing past him and into the small apartment that he’s still sharing with Axel.  
  
The look she gives the place makes it clear what she thinks of it—of him—her lip curling as she crosses the kitchen, heels clicking on linoleum that hasn’t been mopped in months, to take a wary seat at the breakfast bar, smoothing her skirt down twice like she’s afraid she’ll get jam or ketchup on it.   
  
“We need to talk,” she tells him shortly, giving him the flatest, coldest look he’s ever been on the receiving end of.  
  
He bites his lip, wondering if he should offer her coffee or something, but no, bad idea right there. He doesn’t even know if they have any clean cups right now.  
  
“Okay,” he says slowly, equally wary as he settles in across from her. “Are you all right?”  
  
For a moment, some kind of emotion flickers across her face, there and gone again quick as lightning. She takes a deep breath and the story comes spilling out of her in rapid-fire, clipped syllables.   
  
When she’s done, he just sits there, staring at her blankly. He feels numb all over, like he’s gone into shock. She’s watching him with sharp, clever eyes, so he avoids looking at her face, migrating his gaze down, past her admittedly fantastic tits, to where she’s got one hand curled protectively around her stomach. Now that he’s looking for it, he can see the faint curve to her belly that hadn’t been there two months ago.   
  
Panic chokes him momentarily, because there’s no way he can do this. He’s a sophomore in college with a mountain of debt under his feet already, is sharing an apartment with the best friend that he’s been making eyes at for years, and is in no way ready to be a father.  
  
“So,” he starts, licking his lips when his voice comes out crackly. “What do you need me to do?”  
  
She narrows her eyes at him and for half a second, he thinks that this is it, he’s about to get murdered in his own kitchen by an ill-advised one-night-stand that he thought he’d heard the last of months ago. But she doesn’t lunge for the nearest steak knife or verbally eviscerate him. Instead, she softens a fraction, breaking eye contact with him in favor of examining her immaculate french manicure.  
  
“Nothing,” she tells him flippantly. “I can handle this. But you needed to know.”  
  
He blinks at her. “So, you—”  
  
She breathes in deep through her nose again, and slowly, carefully, leans across the breakfast bar so she can take his hand in hers. It’s stilted, unpracticed, like she’s not used to being anything but utterly ruthless with strangers, but for all that the movement is stiff, she doesn’t look awkward. She looks fierce and determined.   
  
“I might carry this baby to term,” she tells him honestly, green eyes wide. “And I might not. I have—”   
  
She cuts herself off, a frustrated look spilling across her face. She doesn’t need to finish though. He gets it. He remembers enough of their night together to hazily recall her pulling out an enormous textbook afterwards and leaning forward like it was perfectly normal to study advanced physics in the afterglow. She’s got dreams, aspirations, same as he does.   
  
Lydia clears her throat, recovering. “But I’m not going to be that person, okay? I will handle this on my own. If I keep it and you want to be involved, give me a call, but until then…”   
  
He smiles at her, she smiles back, and they make small talk for another ten minutes before she makes her excuses and passes him her number.   
  
She walks right past Axel on the way out, stilettos clicking across the concrete, and ignoring the incredulous look that he sends after her. Then Axel’s turning to him, eyebrow arched high, like how the hell did you manage that?  
  
“Who the hell was that?” Axel asks him when he’s close enough, mouth tilted close, voice almost a whisper.   
  
“That,” Roxas tells him, heart flip-flopping in his chest as he ponders just what it is about fierce, competent red heads that gets him so hot. “Was Lydia.”  
  



End file.
